


Andante and Allegro

by GodSaveTheKings



Series: The Dark Symphony Trilogy [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Action/Adventure, Body Horror, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Gen, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Original Character(s), Psychological Drama, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodSaveTheKings/pseuds/GodSaveTheKings
Summary: Ever since the attacks on Republic City, Korra has desperately needed a break from the world. Life has been a painful slog, and she wants nothing more than to get away. Fortunately, an opportunity of a lifetime has arisen: a ten day island vacation with her and her friends. But all is not as it seems. Dark secrets are around every corner, and in her absence, a powerful new enemy arrives, threatening the world when it is at its most vulnerable. What started as a dream vacation will soon turn out to be her greatest nightmare.





	1. Prologue 1

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is a sequel to the work, Crescendo. If you have not read Crescendo, it is highly recommended that you do so before reading in order to get the full experience. That story can be accessed from our account page.
> 
> If you have read the previous story, welcome back. It's good to see you again. As always, enjoy.

She was lying.

Korra studied Asami as she adjusted the nylon glove over her left hand. The two had not made eye contact since they had gotten in the limousine together, and most of the Avatar's attempts at conversation fell flat. It was unfortunate, because if she did not talk to Asami, then her mind began to wander to the little, uncomfortable things, like how the contour of the seat was nearly perpendicular, denying her the ability to recline and relax, or how the only source of light in the cramped compartment came from the glowing shops they passed along the street, which dimly filtered its way through the darkened windows, or how her dress—which had always served her well in the past—suddenly seemed to be one size too large when she needed it most. She wondered if Asami felt the same way, which led her to ask the woman seated cross-legged in front of her if she was nervous about the evening.

Asami said she was fine. She was lying.

"Are you sure about that?" Korra asked timidly. She was careful not to sound predatory. Spirits knew she did not need that mess.

"Yes. I'm fine," Asami insisted, her green eyes hovering on an unremarkable spot on the floor. She fidgeted with her glove, shifting the position of the empty, fourth finger. Korra sighed, and reached across the gap, taking the sheltered hand and squeezing it gently. It was enough to finally draw Asami's attention to her, and she greeted it with a warm smile.

"Don't worry about this," Korra said comfortingly. "We won't stay long. We just talk to a few people, hear a speech or two, and then we'll go. I'll be right next to you."

The ghost of a smile drifted over Asami's face. "I know. It's just been a while since I've done one of these."

"Hey, it's all people you know, right? It'll be easy." Korra said with all her Avatar confidence. "You look beautiful, by the way."

It was true. Asami did look beautiful. Dressed in bright red from head-to-toe, she practically glowed in the darkened limousine. From her ruby red lipstick to the diamond-studded necklace to the cut of her dress, she radiated with perfect beauty. That and some carefully applied makeup were enough to distract from the lack of color in her skin, and the thinness in her waist. If one did not know any better, they would have said that she was the same Asami as she had always been.

They both knew that was far from the truth. Asami used to be the proud CEO of Future Industries, a tech-savvy engineer, a brilliant socialite capable of solving any problem that came her way. But, nearly a year earlier, everything changed. When a new enemy overtook the city, Asami was taken, badly beaten and left for dead. Somehow, she persevered, but the injuries she sustained left lasting marks on her body, and her mind. She hardly left her apartment anymore, resting inside the safety of her own home. The truth was that many things had changed for Asami Sato.

Things had changed for Korra, as well. It was true that she was also scarred, particularly in her hands, which had become numb due to heavy, self-inflicted damage. However, it was her everyday life that changed the most. The life of defending Republic City and the world from powerful threats was gone. She relinquished those duties long ago. Instead of a life full of adventure, she merely existed from day-to-day, quietly spending her time with her girlfriend far away from the troubles of the world. It was as simplistic as life could be. Instead of spending long hours training and mastering her bending, she tended to Asami, helping her with her rehabilitation. She learned how to cook. She bought groceries. She folded laundry. Occasionally, she would hear something interesting on the radio, but nothing took her out of her basic routine. Routine was, perhaps, the best term to describe it. Dull, repetitive routine.

That was why that night was so important. The gala was a chance for them to break out of the routine, to spread their wings and soar for the first time in months. Korra needed it, and Asami even more so. As the limousine approached City Hall, and lurched to a stop, Korra took a deep breath, and squeezed Asami's hand once more.

"Let's do this," she said wearily. The door opened, and at once, they were blinded by bright flashes of light. The buzz and excitement was practically palpable. She quickly led Asami out of the limo and into the cool night, where dozens of reporters flanked them on either side. She gave a small wave to them as their cameras clicked loudly, capturing every individual moment to be spread around the tabloids. Asami kept her face tucked down in her chest as they hurried up the stairs and into City Hall. She ignored them as they called out her name, wanting desperately to get away from them and tuck herself safely inside the gala.

Yet, the gala was hardly a safe haven. President Raiko summoned every big name in Republic City to attend, and attend they did. Several hundred well-dressed bodies packed City Hall, filling the otherwise spacious, golden-lit room with laughter and pleasant chatter. Waiters strode calmly through the masses, serving drinks to the patrons, and they could hear piano music in the background, barely audible over the festivities. Of all the made-up faces, Korra recognized few, but they undoubtedly knew hers. Within moments of stepping inside, she spotted several people making their way towards her, hoping to acquaint themselves with the all-powerful Avatar. She kept her hand intertwined with Asami's and stepped forward.

"You ready?" she asked under her breath.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Asami replied.

The conversations went by relatively smoothly. The process was always the same. First, someone wearing a fine suit or sparkling gown would approach them with confidence, and introduce themselves in a manner that emphasized their importance but downplayed their arrogance. They would then state how honored they were to meet the Avatar and the owner of Future Industries, to which Korra and Asami would respond halfheartedly. Next came the uncomfortable part, where they asked Asami how she was feeling, and described how glad they were to know she was alright. Asami would say one of her prepared responses: Thank you for your thoughts. I'm feeling fine now. Everything is okay. Then, the person would recommend they do business together before moving onto the next person, and the cycle would continue. Occasionally, Asami would encounter somebody she actually recognized, and the conversation would be more jovial. When that happened, Korra stood silently off to the side, watching Asami's old self bubble back to the surface, if only for a few minutes at a time. Korra did not mind; at least those people had the decency to keep their distance on sensitive matters. It was after one particularly warm conversation that Korra approached Asami, whose shoulders had seemingly been removed of the tension that plagued them mere hours earlier.

"So, how are you feeling?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Well, for the most part, I'm handling it," Asami stated. "It could be worse, and it's not like I didn't do these things all the time only a few years ago."

"See, I told you it would be easy," Korra said, nudging Asami with her elbow. "You need more confidence in yourself.'

"I didn't say it was easy."

"I know. But you've got this," Korra said assuredly. "Do you want me to get you something to drink?"

"I'm pretty sure they're only serving alcohol here," Asami said, disappointed. "You know what the doctor's say about drinking."

"I'm sure I can find someone to get you a glass of water. Now if I could only find the food…"

"Food? You didn't eat before you came?" asked Asami.

"You did?"

"Of course. Why didn't you eat?"

"Well, I was busy trying to get ready for tonight," Korra said, spinning around to find the wait staff through the crowd. "And, I was kind of under the assumption that they would be handing out food."

"Oh jeez," Asami sighed. "Korra, you never try to fill up on gala food, especially this high-end junk. That stuff will kill you. I'm not even sure if half of it _is_ food."

"Why didn't you tell me that before we left?"

"I thought you knew."

"Why would I know that? When was the last time I've ever been to one of these things?"

"I don't know. It's just that you don't usually skip dinner, so I thought you wouldn't tonight."

"Well, now what am I supposed to—"

"Excuse me. I hope I'm not interrupting something," came a small voice. Korra turned around, and came face-to-face with a petite, bespectacled woman with the eyes of a hawk, and a smile that was equal parts sincere and superior. Her brown hair cascaded down to her shoulders, and she wore a plain blue suit, standing out sharply from the other extravagant guests. Korra had not expected to see her, but it only made sense that she was invited to attend the gala as well. After all, it would not be right to leave out the CEO of Varrick Global Industries.

"It's good to see you, Zhu Li," Korra said, brushing away her embarrassment. "It's been a while."

"It certainly has," Zhu Li noted. "Six months, to be precise. I hope everything has been going well for you."

"You know… we're hanging in there," Korra said earnestly. "How's your life? Is Varrick still treating you okay?"

"He's the same old Varrick as always," Zhu Li beamed.

"Is he here with you?"

"For some reason, he didn't get invited. I guess Raiko still has bad feelings about that time we tried to kidnap him."

"Oh, right. That," Korra said sheepishly. She forgot that happened. It seemed like so long ago, when things were so different than they currently were. "Well, it's great seeing you again."

"Glad to hear it. Anyway, I was actually wondering if I could talk to _you_. Alone." Zhu Li pointed at Asami. "I only need five minutes. Then I'll give her back. I promise."

Korra exchanged a nervous glance with her girlfriend. She promised that she would not leave her side. If something were to happen, and she was not there for her, things could rapidly get out of hand.

"Asami—"

"No, it's fine," Asami said quickly, much to Korra's surprise. "I think I know what this is about. I'll be back soon."

Before she could object, Zhu Li led Asami away, leaving Korra alone in the middle of an ocean of strangers. She stood silently amongst them, watching them and studying their behaviors. With nothing else to do, she waited for one of the staff to walk by, and then took one of the drinks from their trays. Asami might not have been allowed to drink, but that did not mean Korra was forced to wander about in sobriety. She swirled the red liquid around in its container, before touching it to her lips and taking a healthy swig. She was in mid-gulp when she spotted someone approaching her through the haze of the glass, and it took her a moment to realize that it was the very man who invited her in the first place.

"President Raiko," she said enthusiastically, wiping her lips dry. The President was solemn, statuesque in his mannerisms, but he still greeted her with a smile.

"I'm glad you could make it, Korra," he said with what she assumed was enthusiasm. "I was worried you would not be able to make it."

"I wouldn't dream of missing it," Korra said with a nod. "It's crazy to see how many famous people live in this city."

"This city may have had its ups and downs, but it still holds a special place in people's hearts. And I'm honored that I got to serve these great people for so many years."

"Got to serve?" Korra asked. "Does that mean you're not running for reelection?"

"Korra, the United Republic has seen many threats under my guidance," Raiko explained. "And unfortunately, I was not able to defend it like I should have. Without you, this nation would have been destroyed countless times over. I'm glad I've overseen a long period of piece, but I think it might be time for the United Republic to move on. That was why I held this gala: One last chance to communicate directly with the most valuable names in the city. In fact, I'm holding another event a few days from now, and another a few days after that. It turns out that there are a lot of people to say goodbye to."

"I understand," Korra said. She never fully got along with Raiko, but it felt strange to know that he was leaving. "Are you going to miss being President?"

"Maybe, but it's time I moved on with my life, too," he stated. "I believe you've moved on with your life, if I'm not mistaken."

Korra rubbed the back of her head nervously, and took another sip of wine. Raiko pressed forward.

"So, that's it then?" he asked, curious. "You're not our Avatar any longer?"

Korra sighed. "I'm still the Avatar. It's just… I have other responsibilities to take care of, things more important than the rest of the world. It's complicated."

"You mean Asami," he suggested. "We heard what happened to her. What the Hanzi Killer did. I can understand you wanting to look after her."

"I'm glad _you_ can," Korra said mournfully. She did not want to think of the relationships she broke, the endless arguments she had with her friends and family over her choices. It had been a very rough year. She finished off her glass, relishing the liquid's taste as it poured smoothly down her throat.

"And how is Asami? Is she here tonight?"

"She's here. And she's doing much better. Thank you for your support." The words came out mechanically, but Raiko did not seem to notice. If he did, he did not care. He merely bowed to her, thanked her for arriving, and wished her a pleasant evening before moving on to the rest of the guests. Alone again, Korra decided to track down Asami. Fortunately for her, she found her relatively quickly, tucked away against a back wall, deep in conversation with Zhu Li. But, as Korra got closer, she noticed something was off. Asami's eyes were directed to the floor, her hand wrapped around her upper arm, and the glow that covered her skin was gone. She leaned against the wall as Zhu Li stood beside her, a look of concern on her face. She strained her ears, trying to pick up on the fragments of their conversation.

"Please, Asami, this is for your own good," Zhu Li insisted.

"I… I can't do it," Asami said softly.

"You need to trust me on this," Zhu Li pleaded. "I know what that company means to you. I really do. But you can't keep holding onto it like this. As it stands right now, you aren't prepared to handle its daily operations. You aren't even acting CEO. I can promise you that I will keep Future Industries secure, and can grow it into something bigger than you can imagine."

"It's just that I… I don't think I'm ready to part with it yet," Asami whispered.

"You've been saying that for months," Zhu Li groaned. "This isn't healthy. If you trust me, I can take that pressure off. I'll run it myself if I must. I'll do anything it takes—"

Korra suddenly stepped between them, and Zhu Li went silent. She clasped her hands in front of her waist, trying to look innocent. The Avatar was having none of it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Korra asked forcefully. Zhu Li hurriedly adjusted her glasses. Asami pressed herself further against the wall

"This doesn't concern you," she replied nervously.

"Really? Because it looks to me like you're trying to take advantage of my girlfriend," Korra said angrily, her voice growing louder.

"Korra, don't make a scene."

"I'll make a scene if I want to," Korra snarled. "Listen to me. Don't you _ever_ try to pull something like that again. Got it?"

"Yes, Korra," Zhu Li said with a determined nod. "Whatever you say."

"Great. Now, I'm going to say this as politely as possible: _Back off_."

"Yes, Korra. I understand," Zhu Li stated. "I'm sorry, alright. I didn't mean to offend you, I swear. Just… please, try to reconsider Asami. For your own sake."

Zhu Li disappeared hastily, slinking away like a cat. Korra moaned and clenched her fist. "The nerve of that woman. Trying to pull a stunt like that. Are you okay, Asami?"

Asami did not move. The gala moved on without them. People laughed and drank to their hearts' content. The rest of their evening would be filled with merriment. But for Korra, the moment was ruined. The bitterness wormed its way back into her mind, and it refused to let go. Every day, she fought the same battle, and every day, she gained only temporary victories. It was going to be another one of those days. In the distance, the piano music came to a sudden halt.

"Actually," Asami said quietly, "I'm not so sure."

* * *

Asami bolted upright, waking in a cold sweat. Her heartbeat pounded violently in her ears, and she clutched her hand to her chest, struggling to catch her breath. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness around her; she was safe and sound in her bed, like she always was. She curled her legs underneath the sheets, instinctively drawing herself inwards for protection.

She had it again. The one where she could not move. The one where her limbs were constricted, and all sense of control was stripped away from her. The scenario changed each time. Once, she was trying to flee the countryside to escape police custody. Another, she was trapped in a fighting tournament against an opponent twice her size. Another, she was a child running away from indescribable terrors. The narrative changed, but the feelings of absolute horror and helplessness did not. It was the fourth time in the past five days, and no matter how hard she tried, she always found herself startled awake in the early hours of the morning, desperately trying to keep the fear at bay.

Then, there was the other constant. Asami did not turn to look, because she knew exactly what was there: Korra lied sleeping in her pajamas, her face covered with loose strands of hair, as she pretended that she was fast asleep. Asami sighed, and brushed several beads of sweat from her forehead with her disfigured hand.

"How long have you been awake?"

Korra's eyes flickered open. "About an hour," she responded groggily.

"Dammit," Asami cursed, punching the mattress beneath her. "Not again."

"It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is," said Asami, frustrated. She turned towards Korra, and even in the near-complete darkness, it was easy to see the pain on her face. "I hate this. Every single night, I feel like I'm screwing you over."

"Really," Korra said calmly, "it isn't a big deal."

"How much sleep have you gotten in the past week?"

Korra did not respond immediately. When Asami pressured her, she groaned and sat up in bed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"About ten hours." Asami turned away, and Korra quickly moved to place a hand on her shoulder. "I don't need it. Really. I'm way more concerned about you right now."

"No," Asami said in protest. "We're not doing this. Please, just go back to sleep."

"We _are_ doing this," said Korra, gentle yet firm. "So, what was your dream about?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"If you don't talk about it, you can't fix it."

" _Please_ , go to sleep," Asami pleaded.

"I'm not going to sleep until you do," Korra said bluntly.

Korra was lying to her. Asami knew that no matter what happened, the Avatar would not get any more sleep for the rest of the night. Either they would both stay awake until morning discussing each other's problems, or Asami would drift back to sleep in Korra's arms, and sneak in a few hours of dreamless rest while her lover watched over her. Neither option was what she wanted, but in the year since the incident, getting what she wanted was not a possibility.

"I… I can't remember it," Asami said weakly.

"You don't remember, or you don't want to remember?"

"You're not my therapist, Korra," Asami moaned.

"Until you agree to see one, I am," Korra returned. "Now, what was your dream like? Was it the same one?"

"It was the one with… ugh, this is pointless," Asami said bitterly. Korra sighed and shuffled behind her, wrapping her bare arms around Asami's shoulders. She pecked her on the cheek before nestling her head into her neck. The damaged woman did not respond to her touch.

"Hey, I get that you're frustrated," Korra spoke tenderly. "I know that this sucks. A lot. But we're going to be okay. It doesn't feel like it sometimes, but we can still work through this. But you need to be _honest_ with me, alright? I can't do anything if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"You know exactly what's wrong," Asami whimpered.

"Then why are you closing yourself off?"

Asami growled. Without warning, she took Korra's arms and forcibly removed them, while pushing away her sheets with her legs. She stood up, marched to the closet and grabbed her robe, as Korra watched patiently from the bed.

"I can't do this right now," she snapped, furiously putting on the robe and tightening it around her waist. "I need some time to think. By myself. I'm sorry."

She stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Once inside, it was only a matter of seconds before she pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor, trying to fight back tears. She pushed swaths of hair out of her face as she tried to rationalize her actions, but she could not. She should not have yelled at Korra. That was wrong; Korra was only trying to help her. Her emotions were no longer under her control. She was too mean, too tense, too _everything_ all at once, and it drove her mad.

They had lived together for nine months, but there was never any intimacy between them. Of course, they kept up the illusion for the sake of others as well as their own. They talked on a daily basis, slept in the same bed, and even kissed each other on occasion, but the passion was long gone, torn up and broken like everything else in her pathetic little life. She could not eat. She could not sleep. She could no longer feel the satisfaction of the wind whipping through her hair as she sped along the highway, or the innate satisfaction of completing a difficult project for her company. It was as if her life had taken the shape of one of her nightmares. No matter the context, she was constricted, and she hated it.

Asami did not know how her life could possibly get any worse. She had no idea how wrong she would be.

* * *

" _Is it ready?_ "

"Soon. It's strange to think that after all these years, it'll finally be finished. Still, we have more important things to worry about. We're only four; that leaves us two short."

" _We apologize, ma'am. We would have had five if not for the boy's incompetence. Despite all our best efforts, he was brought down by his own emotions. We failed you._ "

"Don't worry, Markhor. The child never had what it took in the first place. I think it's best to move onto more proven options. I've sent the ghost out to the Boiling Rock to obtain Jackdaw. With a bit of reeducation, I think he will be quite useful."

" _And what about the Sixth?_ "

"I think I found a suitable candidate. It might take some persuasion to make her leave Republic City, but before the month is over, she will come join us. And once she does, we will finally take back what's ours."

 


	2. Prologue 2

The Boiling Rock was considered the world's most secure prison. Though it once held only the prisoners of the Fire Nation during the Hundred Year War, it had since become the world's premier home for the most dangerous criminals in the four nations. It was virtually inescapable; strictly ruled over by its warden, the prisoners faced endless security checkpoints, constant scrutiny and a careful watch, and even if they were somehow able to escape, a sea of endless, boiling liquid stood between them and freedom. The Boiling Rock was impenetrable, and for every inmate stuck on the inside, it was their ultimate nightmare.

Every inmate, except for one. For one inmate, the idea that the Boiling Rock was anything other than a playpen was laughable. The guards might as well have carried loose twigs instead of swords for all their effectiveness. When the world around her was made of metal, nothing could stop her. She could morph the walls, floors, and ceilings as she saw fit. With a snap of her fingers, she could tear the entire structure down and let it simmer in the boiling lake surrounding her. She could ensnare the guards in metal traps without so much breaking a sweat. For one inmate, the Boiling Rock was not secure in the slightest. In fact, she could leave any time she wanted.

But then, that was the irony. Kuvira did not want to leave. At first, the warden didn't believe her when she turned herself in. To be fair, nobody did, and she couldn't blame them. How could someone as powerful as the Great Uniter, the woman who commanded unstoppable armies, the woman who brought the Avatar herself to her knees, simply surrender? For the first year, they kept her limbs tightly bound, freeing her only to eat, sleep, and bathe. Even then, they monitored her closely, constantly waiting for her to make her move. Yet, as they days turned to months, and the months turned into years, it became gradually apparent that she had no plans of leaving. Slowly, the restraints were lifted. The guards left her side. The straps that held back her writs were loosened, and finally removed. And somehow, their trust of her only deepened. She learned the guards' names, and they would give her an informal greeting whenever they saw her. They let her linger in the showers after the other inmates were thrust back into their cells. If two prisoners started a fight, she would be the one called in to break it up.

Life in the Boiling Rock was manageable. Naturally, it had some faults. Her cell was rather dark, and the food was not particularly tasty, though she had grown to stomach it. She had to maintain a strict schedule, which—though she was accustomed to it due to her military training—she was not fond of. Every day, she wore the same bright red uniform, which chafed her skin, and her tangled mess of hair feel loosely past her shoulders where she would have preferred to kept it tied. And of course, she was confined to small, metal box for most of her days, unable to see the world or experience it in any form. She had no radio, and visitation was kept to a minimum. Still, they were reasonable punishments for her crimes, and she learned to accept them. It was a dull, confined life that she chose, and it was the life that she knew she deserved.

Sometimes, however, something interesting would happen at the Boiling Rock. The subject of Kuvira's current fascination was a massive thunderstorm that rolled in after dark, hammering the prison with torrential rainfall. Kuvira found great, almost childlike amusement in placing her ear against the back wall of her cell, listening to the rain clash against the metal with repeated, rhythmic precision. Occasionally, a crash of thunder would send shockwaves through the metal and down her spine, leaving her breathless. Was it sad that she found such amusement from some something so simplistic? Perhaps. But then again, what else did she have to entertain herself?

The panel on the cell door slid opened, allowing dim light to pour into the room. A meek guard poked his head through the opening, his expression masked underneath his thick helmet.

"What are you doing?" he asked her. She recognized his voice. Ren was his name. He was decent.

"Listening to the rain," Kuvira said with a shrug, "until you started bothering me."

"Listening to the rain, huh?" he said with amusement. "Can't you do that any time?"

"You don't let us go outside when it's raining," Kuvira explained.

"But you've seen rain before. You should be asleep. It's getting late."

"The rules state that I have to be in my cell by a certain time. They don't say anything about what I do once I'm there."

Ren smiled to himself. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Kuvira. I should probably stop bothering you."

Kuvira peeled herself from the wall, and casually strode towards the door. She leaned against it with one arm. "Why? You never told me why you were bothering me in the first place?"

"Oh, that," Ren groaned. He pushed up his helmet and rubbed his eyes with the base of his palm, as another crash of thunder rang out in the distance. "Well, I was talking to Raka earlier—"

"This is going to be interesting," Kuvira muttered under her breath.

"—and she said that you hadn't been eating during your meal times."

"Is that so?"

"According to her, you haven't eaten in about three days. That's not like you. Is there something I should know?"

"Probably not," Kuvira said passively. "Just haven't been hungry lately."

"That's why it's not like you," Ren stated. "What's really going on? Be honest."

"I am being honest," Kuvira claimed. "I'm just not hungry. I've never liked the food here anyway."

"Do you need me to put you in for a special session with the psychologist?"

"That won't be necessary," Kuvira laughed. She had seen the psychologist once, many years prior. She believed that one visit to be enough for a lifetime.

Ren only nodded. "Well, if you have problems, let us know. We're on your side."

"I will. Thank you," Kuvira nodded in return. Though she would never show it, she appreciated his efforts. The guards were her only friends inside the Boiling Rock, if she could call them friends. Despite the fact that she was their prisoner, they respected each other's authority. It was a good relationship, and, for what it was worth, a good life.

It all went wrong when Kuvira heard a loud _bang_ , and suddenly, the entire prison went dark. In mere seconds, the world became submerged in blackness, and she could not see anything. A few seconds later, the lights returned, only instead, it was a deep red, which cast dark shadows along the inside of her cell. Ren looked around, shocked but unharmed, as Kuvira took a step back to survey the situation.

"What was that?" she asked, quickly growing concern.

"I think the prison got struck by lightning," Ren said unsurely. He cautiously placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, preparing for the worst. "It must have knocked the power out."

Lightning? Was that what the explosion was? No, Kuvira thought, it didn't sound like thunder. She stopped herself. She was overthinking it. Of course, it was thunder. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Thankfully, the backup power still works. Hold on, I'll contact the control room." From a strap on his back, Ren pulled out a short radio, and he wasted no time dialing in to his superiors. "Control, this is Guard 0143. Requesting an update on the situation. Over."

Kuvira listened closely, waiting for a response to assure her that everything was alright. It was just a blown fuse, or an overcharged generator. The backup power was holding steady, and soon, power would be fully restored. That report never came. Instead, she and Ren were greeted with static.

"Control, come in. Requesting report about the current power situation. Over."

No response. Kuvira could feel something shift in the air around her. A buzz started to build in the other cells, as prisoners awoke from their slumber and began to realize what was going on. Ren called again and again, and each time, he was met with nothing but empty static. As tension rose in the cool red light, Kuvira found herself unknowingly stepping deeper into her cell. Her heartbeat steadily rose, pounding in her eardrums. Something wasn't right.

And then, as Ren attempted to call his superiors for a final time, she heard a loud _click_ , echoing throughout the metal structure, as every cell in the prison was simultaneously unlocked.

Immediately, the gentle buzz transformed into a ferocious roar. Before Ren could react, a prisoner burst out of a nearby cell, and tackled him to the floor. Screams filled the air as the riot took shape, hundreds of inmates storming into the open, attacking everything in sight. Kuvira did not move, remaining in the safety of her room. She heard Ren yell out in pain, before he went quiet. A swarm of jumpsuit-clad bodies stormed past the door, big, strong, and moving like a pack of wild dogs hunting their prey. The guards were outmatched; with no authority and no way to communicate, it would only be a matter of hours before the prison was taken over.

Without a second thought, Kuvira pushed open her cell door, and entered the fray. It was pure chaos. In every direction, people were fighting. Prisoners attacking guards, attacking other prisoners; there was no order or purpose to the riot, only a primal need to destroy. In the dim hallways to her left, a group of five men pummeled Ren's limp body. To her right, a pair of guards were fighting off an onslaught of attackers who managed to get their hands on the guards' weapons. The battles continued above and below her as well, on every walkway and every floor. She did not know where to start in her attempt to regain control. As she quickly thought about what she needed to do, a body was flung down over the railing in front of her, and she instinctively looked up.

That was when she saw it, and froze in place, eyes wide with shock. There, on the walkway connecting two opposite cell blocks, Kuvira saw something that she could not fully believe: a figure, hidden beneath a dark cloak, moving silently amongst the battlefield. Like a shadow, it swept through the chaos untouched, yet never moving faster than a gentle walk. Kuvira watched as it passed onto the pathway above her head, and vanished from sight. When she was sure it had disappeared, she sprinted down the corridor, bounded up the closest stairwell, and gave chase, moving away from the battle. All the while, a million panicked, indescribable thoughts raced through her mind. She turned the corner, following the shadow deeper into the prison, towards the wing where the coolers were held. She knew she couldn't allow herself to be seen. If her suspicions were correct, it would be the end of her.

Kuvira skidded to a stop as she turned the corner into the cooler section. Down the abandoned hallway, merely ten meters away, the dark, shapeless form stood solemnly outside one of the cylindrical tanks. Kuvira dove behind cover. She hadn't been spotted, or at least, she hoped. She peered around the bend cautiously. Unlike the rest of the cells, the coolers were controlled manually, so they remained locked through the anarchy that overtook the Boiling Rock. The cloaked figure examined the padlock on the cell for a long moment, tilting its covered head. Then, without warning, it shot out a stiff boot, crushing the metal lock with ease. Kuvira jumped as the shock hit her. The lock was solid metal. There was no way someone should have been able to break it.

The shadow extended a black, gloved hand, and slid the door open. A body limply fell face first at its feet. Kuvira did not recognize the man, but she could not help but notice his oddly proportioned figure, his greasy, tangled mess of brown hair, his slender, towering mass. The man groggily pushed himself to his knees, and looked up at the shadow with his icy blue eyes. He smiled darkly, exposing his broken, nearly-toothless mouth.

"Well, well, well," he attempted to say with broken words. "What do we have here? It looks like the little girl's all grown up."

The shadow stood silently by, watching him, as he choked out his sentences.

"Not so little anymore. I'll be honest: I can't believe you're still alive. Haven't heard from you in about ten years, since the order fell. Thought you died with the rest of them."

The shadow did not respond.

"Come on? Nothing at all?" the man asked mockingly. "You go through all this trouble just to find me, and you won't even say anything?"

The shadow looked at him pitifully. Finally, after much contemplation, it spoke. It voice was raspy and muffled, like it was being broadcast through a heavy filter. Yet, its words were as clear as day.

"Stop… talking…"

"There we go," the man said jubilantly. "The ghost speaks. Was that so hard?"

"I said… stop talking…"

"Aint gonna happen, girl," teased the man. "I don't have to respect you. Not at all."

"But you respect the Dragonblooded, don't you?" the shadow inquired. The man snickered.

"But that would mean you've become Dragonblooded, and the only person who would ever let that happen is—"

The man paused, and he suddenly leaned forward, a look of abject horror plastered on his rough face.

"No way!" he exclaimed. "There's no way that _she_ is in charge of the Alchemists. That crazy wench has no business leading them."

"That crazy wench," the shadow stated, "gave me very specific instructions for what to do with you. I intend to follow her orders."

"Let me guess," he said bitterly. "She told you to kill me, didn't she?"

The shadow said nothing.

"Look girl," the man growled. "I get why she wants me dead. After everything I've done, I can see why. But take a look at me, will you? I'm locked up here, surrounded by guards every day. That stupid Avatar not only knocked my teeth out, but she also stole my bending from me. This Jackdaw got his wings clipped a long time ago. I am not a threat, so just leave me be."

The shadow took its gloved hand, and thrust it underneath its cloak.

"I can't do that," it stated. "Orders are orders."

However, as Kuvira watched the shadow reach for its weapon, she heard a flurry of footsteps come up behind her. She pressed herself against the wall, as a group of eight guards hurried down the corridor, rushing past her and stopping as they rounded the corner. They ignored her entirely, focusing at the major threat on hand.

"Hey you, stop right there," the leader of the pack yelled. The shadow turned to face them for only a moment, before turning back to the task at hand. "I said, stop right there. Get on the ground, or we will attack."

The shadow spoke calmly. "Leave. Before I have to kill you."

"Just who do you think you—"

The shadow moved suddenly, grabbing the prisoner by the roots of his greasy hair, and forcing him to the ground. From inside its cloak, it pulled out a thick syringe, filled to the brim with bright, orange fluid. Without warning, it jammed the needle into the base of his neck, and pressed down hard on its end, forcing the liquid into his body. The man shrieked in agony, convulsing violently on the cold, metal floor. He clutched his head, wailing with his eyes tightly shut. The guards drew their weapons, and on command, charged at the figure. The shadow held its ground as the guards drew near, not so much lifting a finger as it awaited its demise.

It was then that the man opened his eyes, and with a remarkable burst of energy, sprang to his feet, and shoved the shadow out of the way. He thrust out his fist, and an intense wave of fire shot forth, rocketing through the narrow hallway. The flames turned blue as they consumed the guards, turning them to ash right before Kuvira's eyes. The former Great Uniter dove behind cover. The fire shot past her head, crashing forcefully into the opposite wall. Even safely beyond their touch, she could feel its power permeate her skin, melting effortlessly through her uniform. It was the most powerful fire she had ever witnessed, and its strength clutched her heart and refused to let it beat.

When the flames subsided, she scurried back to position. The man stood hunched over, staring at his hands with wonder in his crazed blue eyes. The shadow stood beside him, emotionless, while the guards had all but been turned to piles of dust on the floor.

"What… what did you do to me?" the man groaned. "I've never… I've never felt—"

"I fixed you, as I was told to do," said the shadow. "The Black Alchemists still have use for you."

"Really?" the man said, his lips morphing into a sinister grin. "And what if I don't want to help?"

He spun around to attack, but the shadow moved faster. It easily grabbed onto his wrist, twisting it sharply, pulling it behind his back as he let out a pained yell. The sudden movement caused the shadow's hood to fall back, and for the first time, Kuvira attempted to make out its face in the dim light. Yet, she saw no face at all. Instead, the shadow's face as blocked by a thick, dark mask unlike any that she had ever seen. The leather mask wrapped tightly around the creature's face, allowing its short, inky strands of hair to fall past its chin. A silver, spider-like contraption covered its mouth and nose, as long, leg-like tubes wrapped its cheeks and ran up its forehead, splintering off in a V-pattern from the bridge of its concealed nose. Its eyes were merely two, rectangular glass pieces, which pulsated with a haunting, unusual red light, a light that only could have come from behind the mask itself. The shadow spoke again, its voice heavily filtered through the bizarre silver plate on its face.

"Then I kill you right now. Do you understand?"

"I got it! I got it!" the man cried. The shadow released its grip, and walked down to the opposite end of the corridor.

"Then let's move," it croaked. "Zero is waiting for us in the airship."

"Whatever you say, ma'am," the man said shamefully, rubbing his sore wrist. He followed the shadow away from the cooler and into the darkness, as Kuvira looked on in silence. When they were out of sight, she released a breath she had not realized she had been holding. That cloak, that face, that name; her suspicions were true. It was really her. The woman that she thought could not exist. Not only was she real, but she was planning something. Something big. Kuvira did not know what, but she did know one thing: whatever it was, the world was about to become a much more dangerous place.

* * *

"I'm sorry," the doctor sighed over the phone. "I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do."

"It's okay," Opal said softly. She lounged back on the couch, one hand tucked comfortably behind her head. "Thank you for everything. Have a good night."

Opal placed the phone gently down onto the receiver, and submerged herself in the cushions. She wasn't at all surprised by the doctor's response. Each time, she expected less and less. Still, it was impossible to escape the sadness that hung over her head like a cloud. She looked out the window to the apartment. The cityscape was the same was it always was. The apartment was the same. Everything was the same.

What Opal wouldn't give to get away from it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Lazy Day/The Opportunity of a Lifetime


	3. Prologue 3

"Asami, dinner should be ready in about ten minutes," Korra called out from the kitchen. Her head was buried in a sea of ingredients spread neatly across a recently polished countertop. Asami lounged on the couch, staring out the enlarged window to her left.

"Got it," Asami responded, her voice distant. Korra was not worried about her girlfriend's complete lack of interest. Instead, the entirety of her focus was directed to the spacious, white bowl in front of her, in which she whisked the sauce that would bathe their meal. The Avatar took up cooking since the incident, and she discovered that she enjoyed it much more than she ever thought she would. There was something wholly satisfying about taking a collection of unrelated substances and merging them together to create entirely new foods. It was a lot like bending, in its own way. She had to carefully balance each ingredient to find the perfect flavor combination, never allowing one taste to overpower another. She collected a wide assortment of recipes over the months, which she kept on a rotating schedule, never repeating a meal for a period of several weeks.

Her current project: pelican shrimp and broccoli stir-fry. The first step, for which she used all her concentration and effort, was creating a well-combined mixture of soy sauce, oyster sauce, rice wine vinegar, brown sugar, ginger, garlic, sesame oil, cornstarch and just a splash of sriracha. Afterwards, she planned on cooking the peeled shrimp and chopped broccoli in a skillet, which she would finish off with the sauce and a sprinkling of sesame seeds. The result would, hopefully, be something Asami would be able to stomach. If she was lucky, Asami would eat a decently sized portion.

"So, Asami," Korra said hesitantly. "I was thinking about things that we could do this weekend. You know, if you were up for it."

"Mm hmm…"

"Asami?" Korra repeated. It took a few moments for Asami to come to her senses, slowly turning away from the emptiness of the window. Korra longed to know what went on inside that broken mind of hers. Did she daydream, wonder about the memories that had been lost to time? Or did she truly think of nothing at all, preferring the silence from within?

"Sorry," Asami muttered quickly. She passively brushed her hair out of her face. A twinge of guilt immediately struck Korra's heart. Whenever Asami was embarrassed, she always brushed her hair, as if attempting to reset her mental state. Korra had caught her drifting away from the world yet again. She tried to salvage the moment, and hurried past the awkward tension.

"No, it's fine," Korra spoke hurriedly. "I wanted to know what you wanted to do this weekend."

"I'm not sure," Asami said with a shrug. She clasped her hands together in her laps, twiddling her fingers. "We had a pretty big day yesterday. I think maybe we should just relax."

"Are you sure?" Korra asked. It wasn't the answer she was hoping for. Her original reason for attending the gala was to reintroduce Asami to the outside world. Naturally, she did not expect Asami to get comfortable immediately, but she had hoped that she would be more enthusiastic about it.

"I think that would be best."

Korra stopped stirring. She tapped the metal whisk on the edge of the bowl, trying to remain focused on the task at hand. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go up to the mountains. You know what they say: A healthy body leads to a healthy mind."

"Don't you hate hiking?"

"Yeah, but…" Korra stammered. "Asami, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," said Asami. "What is it?"

"Did you have fun last night?" Korra asked curiously. Asami tilted her head, squeezing the palms of her hands.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… at the gala," Korra explained. "Was it fun getting dressed up, going out on the town, meeting with people? Did you enjoy yourself?"

Asami took a few moments to respond. "Um… I guess?"

"No, I'm serious," Korra stated. "You haven't said anything about it since we came home. I wanted you to have fun there."

"I did have fun," Asami said halfheartedly.

"What about it was fun?" Korra pressed.

"I don't know. It was just fun."

"You weren't uncomfortable at all? I mean, I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?"

"Of course, you didn't," Asami said assuredly.

"Okay," Korra sighed. "I just want to let you know that if I ever overstep my boundaries, you can tell me. When Zhu Li started bothering you, and I snapped at her, I felt like I was taking things too far."

"No, you did what you thought was right." Asami looked out the window, staring at her reflection in the cool glass. "Zhu Li means well. I know she does. But she needed to understand that I wasn't ready. I wish it hadn't happened like this, but I can't do anything about it now."

"If you say so." Korra took a bottle of olive oil from the counter, and began to heat it in a skillet on the stovetop. She took a handful of broccoli and threw it into the pan, letting it steam. "All that matters to me is that you're happy. I wouldn't want you to do anything if I knew it made you upset."

"Korra, the only thing that made me upset was you forgetting to eat before we arrived."

"Don't worry, I'm making up for that right now," Korra joked. Asami stretched and rose from the couch, walking over to the countertop. She studied the hodgepodge of assorted ingredients with a bemused grin, watching her lover dance around the kitchen, scooping up a pile of shrimp and throwing it dramatically into the pan. Asami crossed her arms.

"Don't you think this is a bit much?" Asami said with a smirk.

"No, this is going to be great," Korra said, brimming with confidence. "Bolin gave me this recipe, and he's a food expert."

"I'm sure it'll taste fine," Asami said, picking up a random bottle and examining its label. "But, do you even know what oyster sauce is?"

"It's sauce from an oyster. Obviously. Seriously, Asami, you're talking to a cooking _master_."

Korra grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter, and thrust it triumphantly at Asami's face.

"Is that so?" Asami said, unimpressed.

"It is," Korra taunted.

"Does the cooking 'master' know that her shrimp is on fire?"

Korra turned around just in time to watch her perfect dinner flare up in the pan. She yelped and hastily covered the skillet with a metal lid. Asami covered her mouth, trying to hide her giggles. As she observed Korra attempt to salvage their meal, she heard their phone ringing from their living room. It wasn't often that they received any calls late at night. Ever since the incident, the only phone calls they received were from telemarketers, pranksters, and wrong numbers. Most people, it seemed, had the sense of mind to give them their space. But, as Asami realized on the third ring, someone was certainly attempting to contact them. With Korra preoccupied salvaging their dinner, Asami was left with no choice but to hunt down the unknown caller. She cleared her throat before picking it up, bracing herself for the inevitable human contact.

"H-hello?" she answered with a slight cough. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Korra cautiously remove the lid from the burning pan, frantically brushing away black smoke with the back of her hand.

"Hey, Asami," came a calm voice from the other end of the line. "It's Mako. I haven't heard from you in a while. How have you been?"

"Oh. Hi, Mako," Asami replied pleasantly. "I've been fine, thank you. How are you?"

"Same old, same old. Where's Korra? She's usually the one who answers whenever I call."

Asami briefly peered over her shoulder. "Korra is…"

"Cook properly so I can eat you, you stupid shrimp!"

"…busy."

"Well, if she's not too busy, I was hoping you two could come over tonight. Something kind of exciting happened today, and I was hoping I could talk with you about it. It's something I think would really interest you."

"Exciting? What kind of exciting?"

"I was hoping to talk about it in person," Mako explained. "It's easier than over the phone."

"I don't know, Mako," Asami said sheepishly. "Maybe tomorrow. Korra and I were hoping to stay in for the night, if that's alright."

"Tomorrow might be too late," Mako stated cryptically. "I know it's a hassle, but I really need to talk with you tonight. I'll even make dinner for you, if that means anything."

"That's very sweet," Asami said gently, "but Korra and I were just about to eat—"

Asami turned around, just in time to watch the shrimp and broccoli burst into flames. Korra jumped back, furiously stamping her feet into the ground.

"Oh, come on! The stove isn't even on anymore!"

"You know what, Mako?" Asami said with renewed enthusiasm. "We might take you up on that."

* * *

From the moment they arrived at his apartment, Korra could tell that something had changed Mako. It was the way that he threw the door open before she finished the third knock. It was the way he casually leaned against its frame, dressed in a sleeveless white shirt and the pants from his police uniform. It was the way he ushered them inside with more grace than she had ever seen him display in the decade she had known him. Once inside, she noticed how neat and organized his belongings were, how his furniture was properly aligned. It was certainly an improvement from the brooding teenager she fell out of love with many pears prior. She wore a proud grin as he rushed off into the kitchen to check on their meal. There was only one logical explanation for his behavior: Mako was dealing with the side effects of being in a long-term relationship.

"Thank you guys for coming on such short notice," he said apologetically. "Sorry the place is in such disarray."

"Yeah… disarray," Korra whistled.

Mako reached into the oven. He pulled out a large metal sheet, covered with flaky pastry cut into neat triangles. Korra took a whiff of the unknown substance, and moaned.

"That smells awesome, Mako. What is that?"

"Spanakopita. It's made with spinach and cheese. I got turned onto it recently. You came just in time."

"Wow. What a fancy man you've become," Korra teased. "Do you cook this all the time?"

"Not for myself. What about you?" Mako asked. "I hear you're cooking a lot yourself these days."

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Asami laughed. "Korra is apparently a cooking _master_."

Korra lightly punched Asami in the shoulder. "Not funny," she growled under her breath.

"I'm sorry. The timing was just too perfect." Asami turned to Mako, a knowing smirk plastered on her face. "Korra burned our dinner right after she finished telling me how good she was at cooking. It literally happened right when she said it."

"Wow," Mako said, amused. "What are the odds of that happening?"

"I know, right?" Korra exclaimed. "It was like the universe decided to play a practical joke on me. After all the good I've done for it. I guess saving it from dark spirits wasn't enough."

"I guess not," Mako snickered. "Anyway, feel free to take a seat. If you want anything to drink, let me know."

Korra followed Mako's instructions, though not without suspicion. As she and Asami sat down at the circular table near the kitchen, she wondered what exactly was so important that she needed to be dragged halfway across Republic City. Her suspicions were only raised further when there came another knock on the door, and before her very eyes, an overexcited lavabender burst into the apartment, hugging the detective.

"Bro! It's been too long," Bolin shouted merrily as he took his brother in his arms. Mako was helpless as Bolin hoisted him into the air, shaking him up and down. As the two brothers jubilantly greeted each other, Opal walked out from behind her husband, closing the door behind them with all the aggressiveness of a pillow. She appeared as warm and kind as ever, smiling softly at Bolin's monstrous display of affection. Yet, to Korra, it was obvious—simply by looking at her—that she was masking a great deal of pain behind her cheerful face.

"Settle down," Mako laughed. "I can't feel my ribs."

"I haven't seen you in _years_! No way I'm letting go of you," Bolin boasted. He continued to shake Mako around like a ragdoll, until out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other guests staring at him from across the room. He threw his arms open in delight, dropping Mako to the floor, and ran over to his newly discovered friends. Korra barely had a chance to rise from her seat before Bolin latched onto her. "Korra! Korra's here! It's a Fire Ferrets reunion!"

"Bolin, please," Korra gasped, wincing as Bolin squeezed her tightly. "I talk to you, like, every week."

Bolin released her, and she gracefully landed on her feet. He restrained himself as he went to hug Asami, firmly wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"And it's great to see you again, Asami," he smiled.

"Nice to see you, too," she said in return.

"What are you guys doing here?" asked Korra. Opal placed a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Mako invited us," she explained. "He said he wanted to talk about something important, and that we should come over."

"He also promised us food, so it was pretty hard to turn him down," said Bolin happily. He broke off his hug with Asami, and seated himself at the table.

"I get that," said Korra, "but I meant that I didn't expect to see you here. Mako didn't tell us you were coming over."

"He didn't say anything about you either," said Opal. Mako returned from the kitchen, carrying a hot tray of food in his mitten-covered hands. He set the pastries down in the center of the table, and brushed the sweat away from his face with his forearm.

"Sorry about that," moaned the detective. "I was in a rush to get you guys over as soon as possible. Please, sit and eat. I'll be right back. Just have to grab something first."

As Mako hurried off to his room, Bolin instinctively reached for a pastry, only for Opal to swat his hand away. She sternly glared at him, and he pouted and whimpered at her, wobbling his delicate hand. The girls took their seats at the table, waiting patiently as they wondered what would necessitate a reunion among the five of them. It was not that they did not enjoy the company. Far from it; Korra was well aware that it had been far too long since the gang had been together. They meant to catch up more often, but soon their daily responsibilities caught up with them, and before they knew it, months had passed and the seasons changed all without them. There was always too much to do, and yet they had done absolutely nothing. It was a strange paradox to be sure, one that Korra was desperate to escape.

When Mako return, she could tell something had changed. There was an air of mystery and excitement about him, and as we inched towards the table, she noticed his hands clasped behind his back, holding something in secret.

"So, thank you all for showing up on such short notice," he said formally. "I bet you're probably wondering why I bothered calling you here."

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"Kinda."

"Well, I know this past year hasn't been great," he stated solemnly. "I know I'm not really one to judge, but… it's been pretty rough, for all of us. We've all dealt with some bad things, and I know it hasn't always been easy."

Asami bowed her head, sinking into her chair. Mako pretended not to notice, and continued.

"My point is: We're stuck in a rut. And if we ever want to get out of that rut, we need to find something fresh and new to break us out. Well, today I called you here because I think I have just the thing to help us get our lives back on track. Check this out…"

Mako whipped out a thin strip of colorful paper, and slapped it on the table. Korra leaned over and examined it carefully. It was a picture of a sandy beach with bright, blue waves crashing against the shore, and crooked palm trees in the background. Above the water was text in big, bold lettering:

_SILVER NIGHT ISLAND LUXURY RESORT. THE ULTIMATE VACATION EXPERIENCE._

Korra, stunned, looked up at Mako who beamed proudly at his worthless accomplishment.

"Uh… Mako," she said unenthusiastically, "what the hell is this?"

"It's the way we're going to bring some fun back into our lives," he said confidently. "It's a ten-day vacation on a tropical island, away from the rest of the world. No radio, no phones; just us, the beach, and the sun."

"You called us over here to brag about some dream vacation? _That_ was your big announcement?"

"Yeah," said Mako calmly. "We've all been so _down_ lately. All we do is sit around and wish that things were like they used to be. I want us to be able to have fun together, while we're all still young. A nice, long vacation is exactly what we need."

"I think it sounds pretty cool," said Bolin. "I wouldn't mind getting away from Republic City for a little while. Would you, Opal?"

"It's not that I would mind," Opal said cautiously. "I'm wondering how much money this would cost. Ten full days can't be cheap."

"You don't have to worry about the money," Mako stated. "I already got the tickets. All that's up for you to decide is whether you want to go."

"You already bought tickets?" asked Korra, shocked by Mako's forwardness. "When exactly are these tickets for? A month? Two months?"

Mako stayed silent for a few seconds, before sighing and answering, "Three days."

The chaos started instantly.

"You want us to put down our lives and go on a massive vacation in three days?" Korra shouted.

"That's not enough time to pack. That's not enough time for anything," said Asami frantically.

"Three days, Mako? There's no way I can do that," Opal protested. "My mother is supposed to be coming to visit me and Aunt Lin for the week. I don't want to miss her."

"You wouldn't have to miss her," said Mako. "You could still spend the next few days with her. Look, I understand that this is coming out of nowhere. Believe me, until a few hours ago, I wasn't expecting it either. This whole trip came up suddenly, and that makes it seem scary. But guys, think about it: when else are we going to be able to do something like this? You two are married. Korra, if the world needs its Avatar again, then you'd disappear for months. My schedule isn't going to get any lighter. Besides, we _need_ this. Can any of you honestly tell me the last time you were genuinely happy with your lives?"

He waited for any of them to answer, except no one did. They sat in silence, mulling over the opportunity placed in front of them. Korra did not even know what to think. Since when did Mako of all people decide to be so spontaneous? He was asking so much of them in such little time. The logistics were insane. She would have to be completely insane to stop everything and vanish off the face of the earth for ten whole days. Then again, she had already been doing that for months. She gave her place in the world to be there for Asami. The only thing that mattered was taking care of the woman she loved. Wouldn't a vacation be perfect for that? Korra looked over at Asami, who had quietly sunk further into her seat. Her eyes unfocusedly gazed at the table. She was gone, for the moment. The guilt suddenly came rushing back, and suddenly, all Korra could think about was the sharpness of the silver blades that pierced her skin, and the terrified shriek she heard while over the phone many months prior.

"Let's do it," Bolin spoke up without warning. "It sounds like it could be a lot of fun. I'm all for it, bro."

"You are?" Mako said, surprised.

"You are?" Opal repeated. "I mean, are you sure about this, Bolin?"

"Of course I am," Bolin said, rising from his chair. "Life has been pretty sucky lately. A good week at the beach should do us some good, don't you think?"

"I'm not doubting it would be fun," Opal said nervously. "I just don't think we have enough time to prepare. What am I going to tell my mom?"

"Tell her the truth. I'm sure she'll understand that you needed some time away. Plus, I'm sure you'll see her again soon enough."

"I mean, I guess that's possible," Opal said unsurely. "I don't know… do you really think we should?"

"Why not? We deserve a good break after all we've been through." Bolin lowered himself to Opal's ear, and whispered, "And not to mention, relaxing might lead to… other benefits. You know what I mean?"

A brief expression of pain flashed across Opal's face, before her emotions faded and she gave a stern nod.

"Okay. I'm all for it," she said with finality. Bolin pumped his fist into the air. His brother merely grinned in satisfaction.

Korra remained silent throughout, lost in thought. She knew Asami did not want to leave home anytime soon. Traveling would be extremely rough in her condition, and the last thing they needed was for Asami to have an attack while out in the middle of the ocean. On the other hand, wasn't getting Asami adjusted to the outside world the reason she was helping her in the first place? Perhaps a long break would ease some of that tension in her shoulders. Perhaps the sun would add some much-needed color to her skin. Perhaps spending time by the water would get her to smile more. If her happiness was at stake, why wouldn't she go along?

"Asami," Korra said softly, moving her hand to gently hold her lover's wrist, "what do you want to do?"

"I…" Asami stammered. "I don't know, about any of this. It's a lot of information coming very fast and I'm… I'm not sure."

"I understand why your nervous, Asami," Mako said smoothly. "But I truly think this will help you. I probably wouldn't even do this if it wasn't for you."

"I don't _want_ you to feel like you need to do anything for me," Asami said firmly.

"Well, too bad. I want to do things for you anyway," Mako said sincerely. "You're my friend. And if this trip can make you feel better, then I don't see any reason not to try."

Asami sighed, hanging her head low. Korra heard her swear under her breath, before the engineer perked up her head and gave a reluctant smile.

"I'll have to buy a new swimsuit," she groaned. "My old one probably doesn't fit anymore."

Mako nodded. "Good to hear. Korra, you in?"

Korra threw her arms in the air, a show of defeat. "Hey, _she_ tells _me_ where to go."

"Then it's settled," Mako said gladly. "It looks like Team Avatar is going on vacation!"

"Woohoo! Vacation!" Bolin yelled triumphantly. Opal giggled as he danced around in his chair, grooving to an imaginary rhythm.

"I hope this island lives up to its promises," she mused.

"Hey, how bad can it be?" asked Korra. "The five of us, back together again. What more can you ask for?"

"Well, six of us," Mako said slyly.

"Six of us?" asked Korra, confused. She counted heads around the room. Korra. Asami. Mako. Bolin. Opal. She was not imagining it. That made five. "What are you talking about?"

Mako laughed nervously. Immediately, Korra's smile faded. "You see," he explained, scratching the back of his head, "I didn't actually _buy_ tickets for the vacation. I was _given_ them as a gift."

"A gift?" Bolin asked. He did not notice that Korra had already realized who the sixth person was, and was shaking with violent rage at the very thought of being trapped with them for ten long days.

"Yeah… for our anniversary," Mako stated. The room became deadly quiet for a fraction of a second, before Korra angrily leapt to her feet and jabbed her finger in Mako's nose.

"No, no, _hell no_!" she shouted. "Please don't tell me you actually plan on bringing—"

* * *

Korra tapped her foot impatiently on the dock. As the five of them waited by the sleek, white ship set to take them to the vacation of a lifetime, Korra grew bitterer and bitterer. Of course, she had to be late. It was only reasonable that she make the journey as difficult as humanly possible. The others were content to lean on their suitcases, enjoying the sun in their swimwear, but she was far too annoyed to do that. She needed to be standing for when she arrived.

Fifteen minutes after they were set to leave, she finally arrived. Korra watched as she sprinted down the dock, trailing behind two massive cases of luggage as she bounced up and down on her tiny feet. When she finally reached them, she doubled over, panting like a dog on a hot summer's day. She was dressed unusually for the weather, covered with a loose, dark red shawl and a big, floppy sun hat. Her feet were the only part of her that remained uncovered, placed in a pair of adorable sandals she undoubtedly bought recently just to show off. The outfit covered her unnaturally pale skin and petite frame well. She popped back to attention, her wavy, colorless hair bouncing on her shoulders. Despite being exhausted, she had enough energy to stick two fingers in the air in victory, and flash a devilish grin.

"So," asked Mako's girlfriend, "which one of you bitches is ready for a vacation?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: The Adventure Begins/A Place Too Good to be True

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter: The Woman in the Black Mask


End file.
